Confession
by sudipal
Summary: -A series of one-shots all compiled together. Complete.- After the Fall, each character reflects, confessing that which they regret and justifying that which they don't. 1.Mycroft 2.Anderson 3.Sally 4.Molly 5.Lestrade
1. Mycroft

Spoilers: _The Reichenbach Fall_

Disclaimer: I do not own _Sherlock_ or any of its characters.

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><p><strong>Confession<strong>

If you were to ask Dr. John Watson whom he blames for everything that has happened, he would say it was me, and I cannot help but agree with him. With all the speculations and half-truths circulating in the news, I know it is difficult to believe the word of anyone with the last name Holmes, but I write this for my own benefit, as I can no longer help the person who needed it the most.

James Moriarty was very real, and I am glad that he is dead. I met him long before my brother had even heard his name. He was constantly under surveillance by the British Government, though I am forbidden from revealing any examples of his misconduct. I can say, however, that within the past few months, Moriarty had become obsessed with Sherlock, particularly in destroying him. And I supplied the fodder.

It had come to the government's attention that Moriarty was in possession of some vital information, that, in the wrong hands, would be dire. We had brought him in for questioning, but he would not talk. That is, until I stepped in. "_The Ice Man Cometh,_" he said that first time (his little nickname for me), the only thing he had said in days. I was the only one who could get him to speak, but only in exchange for what he wanted. I was left with a choice: defend my brother against a psychopath, or save Britain from terror? I chose the latter; though I regret many things in my life, doing my duty for the benefit of my country will never be one of them.

Richard Brook was the figment of a madman's imagination, and it astounds me that so many could be fooled, though I know I should not be so surprised. A hero makes for a good story, but a fallen hero becomes a legend, a tragedy upon which Shakespeare himself could not improve. "Rich Brook"- German for _Reichenbach_; the case which made my brother famous now denotes his downfall. Sherlock was a flawed man, are not we all? He alienated almost everyone he had ever met until there was no one left to stand by his side when he needed the support. I myself was too ashamed of my earlier betrayal to come to his aid.

I cannot say what led to my brother's decision to end his life, but with the death of Moriarty, I suspect he saw no other choice. People call my brother uncaring, but those are the ones who do not know him. It is I, _the Ice Man_, who should really be the one despised for his empty heart.

Despite our endless rivalry, I do miss my brother. Sherlock had the brain to do anything he wanted in this world, but he chose to help people who did not have the ability to help themselves. So many people have depended on his sense of justice over the years, and now the world is at a loss. The only person who ever depended on me is dead, and it is too late to ask his forgiveness.

All I can say now is that I have finally let down the one person who always expected I would someday.

-Mycroft Holmes


	2. Anderson

A/N: A continuation that no one demanded, but I'm supplying anyway. I plan to do this for a few more of the characters eventually as well.

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><p>I'll admit that I truly hated Sherlock Holmes, but that hardly means that I wanted him dead. I see the other officers giving me looks, assuming that I should be happy to have been right about him. If I could have handled things differently, found another solution, I would have. Perhaps if I had encouraged Sgt. Donovan to seek out Holmes directly instead of running to DI Lestrade...? But it's no use focusing on things that never happened. Holmes would say it's no use of my focusing on anything at all- I'd just get things wrong, anyhow.<p>

God, I despised him! But not for being right, or, similarly, for proving me wrong. It was for the lighthearted attitude with which he expressed himself before a rotting corpse or a grieving widow, for belittling the officers who were only doing their duty, and for showing off just because he could. Because we needed him. Because he knew it.

I'm shocked that he's dead. I still forget that he won't be barging into our latest crime scene, won't be mocking me for voicing an idea, and won't be saving the day by connecting the pieces that no one else could ever see. I'm so accustomed to him now that it'll take some getting used to.

I know that I played a large hand in accusing him, but I honestly have no clue. Once the media gets ahold of an idea, it is out of the police's hands. Do I believe in Sherlock Holmes? Never. Am I sorry he's gone? Absolutely, and I wish people would stop believing otherwise. You'd think I was as heartless as Holmes himself...

-Sgt. Anderson


	3. Sally

I know that I did the right thing. If not, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. There was an injustice, and it was my duty to see that everything was put right, that the criminals got punished. Why has everything suddenly got so complicated?

The man who I always knew would lead to no good is dead. That should be the end of it, right? The bad man is gone and the heroes rejoice. But I threw a rock into a stream and did not foresee the ripples. The man I truly respect (who I would lay down my life for) is in disgrace. He says he doesn't blame me, but I can see it in his eyes that I've lost his trust forever. The other officers whisper about me- the one who went over her DI's head only to destroy his entire career. I suppose that's just gossip playing its natural course: at first, I was '_The Woman'_, quickly rising in the ranks and proving my worth against any man; then I became '_The Other Woman'_, who ruined the marriage of a respected colleague; and now I'm finally '_The Woman Who Caused the Fall'_, and whether they mean the Freak or Lestrade, I'm still unsure.

I should have known by now to take everything into consideration, but I saw the evidence plainly laid about before me like the facts were just waiting for me to come along and piece them together. I thought I was doing good by exposing the evil, and I'm still not totally convinced otherwise despite everything that's happened. After all, I was only doing my duty, and I dare any worthy officer to say they'd have done differently.

I'm well aware that the world isn't drawn in only black and white, but in vast shades of gray; however, now there's also a lot of red that's suddenly been left unaccounted for.

I wish I knew where to go from here.

-Sgt. Sally Donovan


	4. Molly

It seems that I've been hanging around him too long- seeing the things no one else notices. I suppose you don't really need brains after all, just experience. Don't get me wrong, though; I'm not a fool. I know he's never really been good to me, that he used me, took advantage... He'd always looked right past me, but I always saw him when he thought no one was watching.

I've known him for years, so I'd be the first to say that he can be a manipulative bastard. But I've had the chance to see him with his guard down as well. I suppose that's the only advantage to having someone find you not important enough for consideration.

He was always so sad, so alone. I could see it in his eyes, and I know from experience what that looks like. I've always wanted to help him. And, no, I can tell what you're thinking... I'm not some daydreaming fangirl who wants to "fix" the tortured anti-hero. Sherlock is not my Mr. Darcy, or my Heathcliff, or that sparkly vampire that my niece is obsessed with.

Fine, I'll admit that I had a bit of a crush, but I would have settled for friendship if he had offered; I suppose friendship wasn't really his area. I think, though, if things hadn't turned out the way they did, we were beginning to create some sort of bond. I even left him a bit speechless for a moment.

I wish things had been different, and I wish I could have done more for him. No one deserves something like that to happen, even him. I would have helped him if he had asked. And I know what people say about me, how they pity poor little mousy Molly living in her realm of fantasy. But that's not the real story; I outgrew the world of fairytales long ago. I'm a doctor and a scientist, and I trust in what I observe. Believe me, I've been scrutinizing Sherlock Holmes in my lab for years. I know him, and no one can convince me otherwise. And even if he wasn't everything that I thought he was, I know for sure that he wasn't everything that the rest of the world thought he was, either.

I'll never forget one of the last things he ever said to me: "You were right." But I think that even the great Sherlock Holmes himself would now agree with me when I say that being right isn't always everything.

- Molly Hooper


	5. Lestrade

It was Sally who told me. I didn't believe her. Lately, I'd been having a tough time taking anything she was saying seriously at all. It wasn't that I blamed her for everything- she was just doing her job- but did she really have to go over my head like that? Couldn't she give me the time to figure things out for myself? But when she told me... Well, I thought that was a lie too cruel even for her standards where Sherlock was concerned.

I phoned John, but he didn't answer. Desperate, I rang Mycroft. After a few rings, he picked up. "I suppose you've heard about my brother?" There was no emotion in his voice. I think I replied, "Yes," before hanging up on him and turning away from Sally. How could Sherlock do something so stupid? He's always been reckless, but this made absolutely no sense to me.

I've known Sherlock for a little over six years now. He's rude, arrogant, opinionated, and utterly brilliant. The only reason he ever helped me was because he was bored. But that's not entirely true. He also helped with cases which he deemed easy, inconsequential, uninteresting... Complaining the entire time, but, nonetheless, solving them. Because, deep down, he cared.

I considered him a friend. I mean, we didn't hang around the pub together or anything like that, but he was always there when I needed him. When he needed me, though, when everyone was against him, it was _I_ who let him down, never the other way around.

I think that the key to our relationship was that I was probably the first person in a long time that ever gave him any consideration. I _listened_ to him. We were mutually beneficial to each other; it felt comfortable. But now everything seems foreign to me. Sherlock Holmes is gone, and I'm in danger of losing my job because the people I trusted the most didn't know how to reciprocate. God, it feels just like my marriage. I'm beginning to think it's me...

Sherlock had helped with a lot of cases of the years. I was never jealous of him like many of the others for so easily solving the mysteries that we, who were trained to do so and had dedicated our lives to it, couldn't wrap our heads around. No. I was proud of him. All of the people he's helped- they never would have had their justice if not for him. Sherlock Holmes was a great man, but, even more so, he was a good one. And if I had the chance to see him one last time, I wouldn't waste an instant to shake him by the hand and tell him so.

-DI Greg Lestrade


End file.
